Semua Bab Falling between us: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Chapter Twelve of Falling Between Us — a gentle yet emotionally resonant extended epilogue. It’s about legacy, art, quiet joy, and how love, once fractured, can become the firmest foundation. A year has passed, and now, Elena and Adrian find themselves at the edge of something even deeper.⸻Chapter Twelve: The Long Way HomeIt rained the day Elena’s gallery opened.Not a storm—the sky simply wept in slow, silver streaks, like the town itself was pausing to remember.The gallery stood in the heart of Havenbrook’s downtown—a restored brick storefront with wide glass windows and handwritten signs. On the front door, gold lettering read:THE GREY STUDIOArt. Story. Stillness.Inside, light spilled across wooden floors and canvas-covered walls. The space was intimate, nothing like the sleek city showrooms Elena once dreamed of. But it felt like her. Like here.Adrian stood beside her as the first guests trickled in. He wore a navy shirt she’d picked out and a nervous smile that made her h

Chapter Fourteen: And Then There Was YouThe hospital room was still.Muted lights. The distant hum of machines. A nurse had just left, murmuring something about checking in later, and now there was only the sound of breathing — shallow, uneven, and stunned.Adrian sat beside the bed, elbow on his knee, hand holding Elena’s.And in Elena’s arms was the smallest, softest thing he’d ever seen.A daughter.Wrapped in a striped hospital blanket, a hat too big for her tiny head, face pink and wrinkled like she was still deciding if she liked the world.Elena didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. She just stared down at the baby with a look Adrian couldn’t name. Reverence? Terror? Absolute, bone-deep love?Probably all of them.“She’s… here,” she whispered.Adrian nodded, overwhelmed. “Yeah.”“She’s real.”He leaned closer and placed a hand on the blanket. The baby’s hand twitched and brushed his finger. He stilled, hardly breathing.“How can something this small be this powerful?” he said.“She al

Chapter Sixteen: In the Quiet, I Remember MeThe baby was asleep.The laundry was folded. Dishes, done. The monitor blinked quietly on the end table, casting a soft green glow.And for the first time in days, the house was still.Elena sat on the studio floor, her back against the bookshelf, sketchbook in her lap. Her hands were clean, for once — no milk stains, no formula crusted under her nails, no spit-up on her sleeve.Just graphite.And silence.She drew slowly. A hand. A shoulder. A face she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Lila. It wasn’t Adrian. It wasn’t even herself.It was… someone she used to be.Before.⸻Earlier That DayElena had taken Lila into town for the first time alone.Adrian had offered to come, of course, but she said no — she needed to do this herself. Needed to remember that she could.Just a quick stop: groceries, coffee, baby wipes.But somehow, walking down Main Street with Lila in a sling, Elena felt exposed.Everyone smiled. Some stopped her.“Oh, what a darl

Chapter Eighteen: The OfferElena wasn’t expecting the email.She was mid-sip of lukewarm coffee, Lila gurgling in the playpen, when her phone buzzed.Subject: SOLO SPOT AVAILABLE — NY ExhibitShe stared.Then opened it.Elena,We’re curating a feature for “Emergence: Women in Abstract Expressionism.” I remembered your piece “Fever Nest” from three years ago — still gives me chills. A slot opened unexpectedly, and we’d love to consider you for it. One condition: all pieces must be original and completed within the next six weeks. Think of it as a rebirth. Let me know — soon.— Amelia VincentCurator, Sable Gallery, NYCElena read it twice.Then again.And again.Her heart kicked. Her mind raced.She looked at Lila, who was currently chewing on a stuffed octopus like it owed her money.“I don’t even have time to shower,” Elena whispered. “Let alone time to resurrect my entire artistic soul.”But something sharp inside her stirred.Something that had been too quiet for too long.⸻Adria

Chapter Twenty: The Voice That Never CalledThe call came on a Tuesday morning.Adrian was in the kitchen, half-dancing with Lila to an old Stevie Wonder song while pancakes sizzled on the stove. Elena was upstairs, catching rare studio time. The sunlight was soft, the world quiet.Then his phone rang.Unknown Number.He almost let it go to voicemail.He should have.Instead, he answered with a distracted, “Hello?”A pause.Then a voice he hadn’t heard in over a decade.“Adrian.”His stomach dropped. The spatula slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor.“Dad?”Another pause. Then: “I heard about the show. The open mic. Your name’s been floating around again.”Adrian stepped away from the stove, heart thudding.“How did you get my number?”“Does it matter?”“Yes,” he snapped. “It matters.”Lila babbled at his leg, confused by the sudden silence.“I want to see you,” the voice said. “Talk. Face to face.”Adrian shut his eyes.“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”“I know I wasn’